stem of mendacity, but Odette
had no such system; she contented herself, merely, whenever she wished
Swann to remain in ignorance of anything that she had done, with not
telling him of it. So that a lie was, to her, something to be used only
as a special expedient; and the one thing that could make her decide
whether she should avail herself of a lie or not was a reason which,
too, was of a special and contingent order, namely the risk of Swann's
discovering that she had not told him the truth.

Physically, she was passing through an unfortunate phase; she was
growing stouter, and the expressive, sorrowful charm, the surprised,
wistful expressions which she had formerly had, seemed to have vanished
with her first youth, with the result that she became most precious to
Swann at the very moment when he found her distinctly less good-looking.
He would gaze at her for hours on end, trying to recapture the charm
which he had once seen in her and could not find again. And yet the
knowledge that, within this new and strange chrysalis, it was still
Odette that lurked, still the same volatile temperament, artful and
evasive, was enough to keep Swann seeking, with as much passion as ever,
to captivate her. Then he would look at photographs of her, taken two
years before, and would remember how exquisite she had been. And that
would console him, a little, for all the sufferings that he voluntarily
endured on her account.

When the Verdurins took her off to Saint-Germain, or to Chatou, or to
Meulan, as often as not, if the weather was fine, they would propose
to remain there for the night, and not go home until next day. Mme.
Verdurin would endeavour to set at rest the scruples of the pianist,
whose aunt had remained in Paris: "She will be only too glad to be rid
of you for a day. How on earth could she be anxious, when she knows
you're with us? Anyhow, I'll take you all under my wing; she can put the
blame on me."

If this attempt failed, M. Verdurin would set off across country until
he came to a telegraph office or some other kind of messenger, after
first finding out which of the 'faithful' had anyone whom they must
warn. But Odette would thank him, and assure him that she had no message
for anyone, for she had told Swann, once and for all, that she could
not possibly send messages to him, before all those people, without
compromising herself. Sometimes she would be absent for several days
on end, when the Verdurins took her